


Sleeping Xavier Classification

by blueteak



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, X-Men First Class Kink Meme, cuddly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik catalogues different varieties of Sleeping Charles. Written for the prompt "Erik listens to Charles's heartbeat" at First Class Kink</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Xavier Classification

**Author's Note:**

> For [ this prompt at First Class Kink ](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/7761.html?thread=15172433#t15172433)

  
Title: Sleeping Xavier Classification  
Pairing: Charles/Erik  
Warnings: A little schmoopy  
Notes: For [ this prompt at First Class Kink ](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/7761.html?thread=15172433#t15172433)  
Also inspired by lolafeist's interest in sleeping Charles.

Magneto looked at the figure in the bed. He had always loved studying Charles asleep, and in fact had a mental classification system for all the different varieties of Sleeping Xavier.

First there was Starfish Charles, a mode he seemed to go into moments after wiping the final obscene streak of beer foam off of his face. Erik would be stuck with task of wrangling limbs that wanted to embrace the entire world, or at least the entire pub, back into a trench coat. He would have to keep an overly warm, overly confident, and not overly concerned with hypothermia Charles from spreading himself open for a soaking on freezing, sleeting Oxford evenings.

When he finally got him home, after singing and reminiscing from Charles (look, Erik! That’s where I first had the idea to compare my genes to Raven’s!) and threatening from Erik (Charles, if you don’t stop hugging that building right now I’ll show you exactly how I think drunk young men who still act like schoolboys should be dealt with) he would strip the inevitably sodden garments off of a suddenly sleepy Charles.

Erik would rub the chilled, pink skin briskly from head to foot with a soft towel, checking every now and again to see whether he could see the warm blue of Charles’s eyes; if not, he’d have armfuls of asleep-on-his feet Charles to carry to bed.

Regardless of whether he had to carry Charles or not, the bed he finally got Charles into after maneuvering his arms and legs into the ugliest (but, he had to admit, softest) pajamas the world had ever seen, would be completely taken up by all four limbs. It was like Charles needed to ground himself into the earth after being carried far into the atmosphere on alcohol fumes.

No matter how many times Erik tried to turn him on his side, worried about him aspirating even though he was never anywhere near that drunk, Charles would murmur something and comply for about half an hour before stretching out to all four points again. Eventually, Erik would find himself tugged into bed, one of Charles’ arms and legs stretching over him and grounding him too.

And then there was Spoon Charles, who appeared when memories of the camps and all they had taken away got too close.

Erik would be huddled in on himself, back to Charles, trying to keep himself together, contained. Charles would get under the covers slowly, as if afraid to make any sudden movements, and get close enough behind Erik that he could feel the body heat radiating off of him, temptingly close but itchingly not close enough.

Charles would put a hand on Erik’s shoulder and hold it there, waiting to see whether it would be shrugged off. If it wasn’t, he’d slowly get closer, until the itching sense of close heat was replaced by a soothing warmth. This Charles slept with his head on Erik’s shoulder, arm draped over him, stern expression fixed even in sleep, warning all those who would harm Erik away.

And then….and then there was what Erik thought of as Erik’s Charles. This Charles usually appeared after they’d made love, after one of them had made the other take every inch and they had taken one another to the brink over and over again. Charles would be curled a little onto his left side, but resting mostly on his stomach, face flushed but calm, eyes shining before sliding closed in sleep, hand in hand with Erik. They would sleep facing one another linked by flesh and breath.

This Charles, however….this Charles curled in on himself in a hospital bed, a machine’s blinking lights casting shadows on his too pale skin….this Charles was not one he wanted to add to his classification system. This Charles looked closer to death than sleep. The only good thing about the blinking lights in the dark room was that they made it easier for Magneto to see the throbbing of a pulse. It still wasn’t enough.

Magneto carefully opened Charles’s hospital gown, grateful for the chance to feel the warmth of Charles’s body again, even in this dark, terrible place.

He shifted position, trying to get his head on Charles’s chest without snagging himself on any of the wires monitoring (or maintaining?) Charles’s life. He finally got his head down to where Charles’s heart should be and heard nothing. He panicked. Had he inadvertently disconnected a wire Charles needed to live?

But then he stopped himself, realizing that he felt the lining of his helmet against his ear, not Charles’s skin. Erik considered it for less time than he would have thought he needed and took the helmet off, settling himself back down to listen to the beat of Charles’s heart. One of Charles’s hands, still attached to tubes, came to rest in his hair. “Erik….you’re back” he mumbled, sounding sleepily confident, like he hadn’t expected anything less. “Yes,” said Erik against Charles’s skin. “Yes.”


End file.
